


Bright Precious Things

by LadyBoltonToYou



Category: Joaquin Phoenix - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Joaquin Phoenix/Reader smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBoltonToYou/pseuds/LadyBoltonToYou
Summary: "All the bright precious things fade so fast... and they don't come back."- Daisy Buchanan, The Great GatsbyAnd you just so happened to find the brightest and most precious thing to ever exist.
Relationships: Joaquin Phoenix/Reader, Joaquin Phoenix/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	1. Glittering Gold

Sometimes you don’t see things for the way they are. You lose yourself in the beauty of the moment, the instant gratification, the glitter and gold and everything that sparkled. The self-indulgence. Everything.

And Joaquin sparkled with such beautiful gold you were blinded to the truth. 

To your defense, what’s a girl to do when someone like Joaquin gives them what he did? Anyone in their right mind would fall into the spiral you did. It was young love and you were vulnerable.

You both were.

You’d met Joaquin through your family. Your older cousin, Daisy, was in the acting business. She often threw parties at her house and invited the people she worked with, so you’d met quite a few famous people. No one like Leonardo DiCaprio, but you’d shared wine with Andrew Garfield and smoked a cigar with Jim Beaver.

And then you met _him_.

“It’s a miracle he even came.” You overheard Daisy speaking to your aunt as she lit a new Mild Seven super-slim, something she had been smoking on all night. 

“And it’s a miracle you landed that role with him.” Your aunt was a blunt woman, she always had been. She took a sip of her white wine and tilted the glass towards Daisy as she swallowed. “Have you talked with him yet?”

“When he arrived. He doesn’t normally do parties, he told me that himself. Probably because it always ends up like that.” With the tip of her cigarette, she pointed towards a corner of the room.

You followed the imaginary line and saw him standing there, surrounded by a group of young women. He didn’t look uncomfortable, rather, bored and drained. You could sympathize, but you couldn’t blame the girls. If you were selfish and a little more confident you would have gone up there with them.

He truly was a sight to see. Even from where you sat across the room from him you could appreciate him. He wasn’t in his element, that was obvious, but even so, he looked beautiful and demanded attention without even trying.

You didn’t expect him to look right at you. 

When your eyes locked you clenched your jaw. The act sent chills through you, your heart jumped up into your throat and you couldn’t breathe for a moment. What the hell was happening? You were barely a fan of Joaquin, so why were you reacting like a school-girl? You had a crush on Andrew Garfield, but you flirted and joked with him without any issue, your confidence had always won you over for people. Now, you had none.

It didn't make any sense. You'd only seen one of his movies. You knew the bare minimum about him. Yet, the way his eyes bore into yours, it made you feel as if you were in the presence of a god. 

As quick as it happened, he looked away.

Throughout the night, champagne flowed and your inhibitions went with it. It didn’t take long before you found yourself on one of Daisy's balconies, watching a group of men play poker on the patio below while sipping on a fresh glass of wine.

“Does Daisy have her Gatsby?” 

That was the first thing he had said to you, or rather, the first thing he had mumbled, as he lit a cigarette. 

You tried to contain your surprise when you turned to see Joaquin with an American Spirit stuck between his wine-stained lips. It was hard not to be star-struck, but you forced yourself to be as casual as possible, as if you were talking to just another Joe. After you gained your composure, you turned back to your observance of the poker game. “My Daisy _is_ Gatsby. Haven’t you seen her parties?”

Joaquin nodded his head and stepped beside you, leaning with both arms against the banister. “Are they successful?”

You joked with him for a while before the subject of The Great Gatsby was dropped.

“So, you’re Daisy's cousin?” He asked, his cigarette being halfway smoked through. “I think she mentioned you to me when she invited me to this whole thing.” 

“Yes, I am.” You were surprised she actually brought you up to Joaquin. Why would she? She had no reason to. “I hope all good things.” You joked and lifted your champagne glass in his direction before polishing off the rest of it.

“I think she called you an alcoholic.” He said after blowing out a generous stream of smoke.

Wait, did she really? You looked at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, causing him to laugh, he almost looked guilty. 

“I’m kidding. I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny.” He was still laughing despite his protest, his hand raised to his face, index finger and thumb pressed against the bridge of his nose. “She said, uh, what the fuck did she say? Something along the lines of her mother and cousin being at the party, and that it would mean a lot to her if I met you both.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Joaquin’s laughter was contagious, far too contagious for you not to laugh. Everything about him drew you in closer, he radiated warmth and sparkled with gold. He was just one of those people that everyone wanted to know. Maybe _he_ was Daisy's Gatsby. 

You wondered if he knew how intriguing he was, watching him take another drag of his cigarette. Even the way he smoked looked like a perfected act, the way he blew the smoke from his lips, it was like he was always in a movie. You could easily believe that his countless years of acting had caught up to him, causing him to put on an act 24/7.

“Have you met her mother yet?” You asked, leaning beside him, your eyes now back on the poker game again. They were finishing up their third round of the night, their chips in sloppy piles, green dollar bills flaunting their promise. 

“Yeah, she’s quite the woman.” He snorted, ashing his cigarette over the railing. 

You talked with each other about the upcoming film he and Daisy would be in, a movie he couldn’t tell you much about. But from what he did tell you, it seemed very interesting, something you would definitely watch. 

It had been an hour. An hour spent talking about this and that, nothing and everything, one of the best hours of your life. He had gone on a ten minute speech about David Bowe when he finally glanced down at his phone and sighed.

“Jesus, it’s three A.M?” He squinted and brought his phone closer to his face, shaking his head in disbelief when he saw it was exactly three A.M. “I should probably go home. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

You nodded, your cheeks still aching from smiling and laughing so much. You still wished he could have spent more time with you. The conversation had thrived with minimal effort, which was a rare thing for you. “Alright, it was great meeting you. Thanks for coming, stuff like this means a lot to Daisy.”

Joaquin nodded at your words, silently pleading you'd stop talking about Daisy. “It's no big deal, honestly. I was free today, so, I thought, ‘Why not?’, you know?” He shrugged and slipped his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Nice meeting you, too. I was going fucking crazy in there," With his thumb, he pointed behind the two of you towards the house. "I swear... Jesus Christ. I'm convinced this one girl was gonna try to take my pants off and give me a fucking blowjob in front of everyone.” He scoffed and you laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. Though, you couldn’t blame the woman he spoke of. It was hard not to do the same, plus, the alcohol had made you way too carefree. 

“Alright. Catch you around.” You had tried to sound casual, but every part of you had been screaming to get his number, give him yours, anything. 

Joaquin nodded in your direction, flicking his cigarette over the banister, exchanging neither of your numbers. 


	2. Brandy

You couldn’t focus for much of the week. 

Google had been your best friend, but you found Joaquin didn’t have any social media. Not even Instagram. That was the allure of him though, he didn’t care for the attention that social media so eagerly provided. He didn’t care for any of it.

The one-hour conversation you shared with him was more than enough to spark an interest in him and the things he liked. 

You tried to play it cool, but it was so hard. You’d been spending more time with Daisy in a low-key effort to find out more about him. It was obvious you had a crush, but you were trying your best to push it away. A famous person? You couldn’t crush on someone like that. He’d be too busy to fulfill your needs, you and everyone close to you knew that. You’d go crazy if your needs weren’t met. You’d been down that road before, it wasn’t smart.

“Do you like them?” Daisy asked as she delicately fluffed up the bouquet of white roses, her manicured fingers slipping through the flowers like silk. “I was planning on throwing another party this weekend.”

“Oh?” You watched her as she walked away from the table, grabbing her pack of super-slim cigarettes. She smoked the kind that smelt like mint and menthol, much better than Joaquin’s. He might as well smoke Marlboro Reds with the way they smelt.

“Will you come?” She asked, slipping a straight from the pack and placing it between her matte cherry-red lips. She lit the end and took a light drag, blowing out such a small puff of smoke it would be a wonder if she actually inhaled any. “I’m hoping Jim Husack will come.”

Jim was another one of the actors in her new movie, if you remembered correctly, he was her character’s love interest. He had dark red hair, almost brunette, sort of like Michael C. Hall, but less red. Pretty green eyes. 

“If he doesn’t, he’s a fool.” You took a sip of your cranberry juice and stood from the white armchair, following her from room to room. “Of course I’ll come. Who else are you inviting?”

She listed off names, a few actors and actresses you knew, some family members, of course, your Aunt. You began losing hope until she stopped in front of the front door to fix a wreath she had hung on the door. 

“I was thinking of inviting Joaquin again, but I don’t know if he’ll come. We were filming the other day and he was in one of those… moods?” She trailed off, straightening the wreath as she chose her words carefully. “I don’t know. He gets into character when he films, I’ve noticed that. When we’re not filming he hides himself away in his trailer so he doesn’t break character.”

You listened to her while she spoke, watching her hands carefully tend to her wreath. “You could always try. Worst he can do is say no.” After you put in your two cents you changed the subject, deciding to talk about the upcoming party and the theme. Daisy always tried to have a new theme for each party.

When the day finally came around you put more effort into your appearance than usual. You spent long in front of your mirror, carefully applying makeup, trying on different jewelry and dresses.

You settled on a pair of diamond earrings, a necklace of the same, and a simple gold chain bracelet. For your dress, a form-fitting red dress that ended on your midthigh, sleeves ending at your elbows. It was fancier than your normal attire, your makeup and hair done with such precision someone would think you were attending the Oscars 

Daisy had gone through the trouble of hiring a singer for the night, a wonderful girl who you’d listened to a few times on youtube. She sang with such elegance it was hard to not mistake her for an angel. The gentle white lights strung above her and the outdoor stage helped, the glow caressing her skin as if it had been made just for her. 

“Can you get me another?” 

That familiar voice. You looked away from the singer to see Joaquin walking towards you, holding out an empty glass towards a man with a serving tray right behind you. His eyes met yours and his lips drew up into a surprised smile.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again.” You spoke after Joaquin handed his glass away. “Last time you looked like you were dying to get away.”

Joaquin shrugged, crossing his arms. “It’s hard to say no to Daisy.” He admitted and fell in beside you, turning to look at the singer. “Plus, she looked so nervous when she asked me.”

The two of you were quiet for a while, enjoying the live entertainment. At the front of the respectful crowd stood Daisy and Jim, their shoulders barely brushing against each other. Thinking about how she must feel gave you butterflies, and you looked up beside you at Joaquin.

He looked beautiful, even though his outfit gave off the idea that he didn’t care too much. He wore blue jeans just like last time, a button-up white shirt, a black tie, and a black jacket that he had zipped up to the middle. 

Maybe it was the fact he didn’t care that drew you towards him. The recklessness, it reminded you of your much younger years. When you were fourteen and didn’t give a damn about anything. Seeing an adult with such nonchalance made you feel oddly comfortable.

The man from earlier finally came back, handing Joaquin his glass full of alcohol. You had no idea what it was, maybe rum and coke? Or maybe straight Brandy. You weren’t close enough to smell it.

“Thank you.” Joaquin said as he took the glass, raising it to his lips. He took a sip, not cringing in the slightest.

How was he so beautiful? You watched him swallow, caressing your glass of wine near your neck, full of wonder, looking at him with a beautiful expression of admiration. If someone took a picture of you then, capturing you in your red dress with the sparkle of diamonds around your ears and neck, the pure emotion on your face, well, it would sell for millions.

And Joaquin knew it. He glanced down at you and was taken aback for a moment, furrowing his brows. “Are you a model?” He asked, his eyes trailing from yours to your neck. “Jesus, I just asked that, didn’t I?”

“No, I’m not.” You laughed, looking down at his shoes. 

“Sorry. Her voice is like a fucking, what are they called? Those things that the sailors… a siren, and you,” He had to stop himself then, shaking his head. “I should slow down.” He referred to the drink in his hands, moving it so the ice clinked against the glass. 

You let yourself look at him again and smiled, understanding what he meant. The atmosphere was getting to you as well. “Where are all the girls from before? The ones,” You glanced around before leaning forward, prompting him to lean down so you could whisper to him. “The ones that you thought would take you in front of the entire party.”

Joaquin laughed and stood back up, taking a moment to shrug and laugh some more. “I don’t know. They haven’t found me yet.”

“She does sound beautiful.” You glanced back at the singer, appreciating how her voice flowed through the air like silk ribbons. “A siren is exactly how I would describe her.”

“Do you sing?” He asked and took another sip of his drink, completely disregarding his earlier statement about slowing down. 

“Nothing professional.” You turned back to him and sipped your wine. “I heard how you sounded in the Johnny Cash movie. That was amazing. You know, they say anyone can sing, all it takes is a vocal coach.”

He took in your words like a drink and nodded, knowing you were right. “That’s, yeah. Uhm,” He scratched the back of his head, his demeanor suddenly changing. “Can we go back to that balcony? I can feel those girls staring at me.” With the same hand that held his glass, he pointed his thumb behind him.

You waited a moment before looking to where he pointed and had to stop yourself from laughing. A group of six girls stood a yard or two behind you, either holding a glass of champagne or a cigarette. One of them were smoking out of a Kiseru, you wondered if Daisy had gotten it for her when she got her Mild Seven’s.

“How about the roof? We can go through the upstairs bathroom. It’s a secret though, don’t tell anyone.” You teased with a wink, throwing Joaquin’s heart through a loop with that one action.

“Okay.” He nodded and followed you upstairs to the third floor, his emerald eyes switching focus from the back of your red dress and the white-painted hallway walls. 

You climbed through the bathroom window, helping Joaquin through the route you had taken many times before. Daisy had let you in on her little secret hide-away, making you promise not to let too many people know about it.

When the two of you settled beside each other on the roof Joaquin pulled a cigarette from his pocket. 

“This is nice.” He muttered through the filter of his cigarette, cupping one hand around the end as he lit it with his zippo.

“Daisy throws so many parties, I normally come up here when they get too crazy.” You said and took a sip of your wine, looking down on her backyard. You had a perfect view of your siren, she had started a new song. 

Joaquin brought up the subject of Walk the Line again, going on for a good while about the vocal coaching and initial frustration. 

“At first, I thought, how the fuck can I do this?” He said through a puff of smoke, tossing his hands up. “Johnny Fucking Cash? There was no way.”

You listened to every word, nodding and smiling, watching him speak like you were hearing Leonardo DiCaprio tell you the secrets of acting. 

“I need a refill.” He admitted as he finished his glass, licking the beads of amber from his mustache. 

You looked to your own glass and realized you too had finished your drink. “Let’s go get one then.”

Once back inside you went your separate ways in search of alcohol.

When you filled your glass with wine you waited by the staircase for Joaquin, taking a moment to appreciate a painting on Daisy’s wall. It was beautiful, like most of her decorations. You found yourself soaked in the brush strokes when you felt someone barely graze the back of your dress.

“Shit, sorry.” It was Joaquin. He had bumped into the railing of the staircase in his hurry. “One of them found me. Come on.” You looked over your shoulder and saw the older woman with the Kiseru sauntering after him. He grabbed your bicep in a gentle grasp, pulling you up the stairs with him. 

On the way up you had spilled a bit of your red wine, causing you to giggle, causing him to burst into laughter and pull you faster. In your rush you both found yourself laughing with each other, and once you were in the bathroom and the door was closed his grip on your bicep tightened.

You fell back against him, more of your wine spilling.

“Fuck,” You were going to apologize when you saw the splatter of red on his white shirt, but then his hand was in your hair and he was kissing you.

He had definitely been drinking straight Brandy, you could taste it. You also tasted mint, maybe his chapstick? His lips were so soft against yours, moving in perfect sync, after a few moments he deepened the kiss and turned the two of you so you were pushed against the door. 

You struggled to hang onto your glass, trying not to spill it at the same time. Joaquin had dropped his when he kissed you. Shockingly enough, the cup laid unbroken on the floor in a puddle of Brandy by your feet. You’d have to remember to clean it up, Daisy’s party couldn’t be tainted with drunken carelessness. Joaquin wouldn’t remember or care enough to get it himself.

When he finally broke the kiss you were both left a panting mess, your chests heaving against each other, gasping for breath.

“Joaquin,” You breathed his name, your tongue running against your top lip. You had no idea what to say. What could you say? 

Before you could even grasp at the tendrils of a sentence someone knocked on the door, breaking your train of thought.

“I need to go.” Joaquin whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “I should have gone two hours ago.” He leaned in to kiss you again, tasting just as sweet as the first time. 

“Okay.” You sputtered when the second kiss was broken. 

You went out the window and he left the way he came, out the door, carrying his glass. When the man who had knocked on the door left the bathroom you cleaned up the spilled Brandy, too buzzed on Joaquin’s kisses to notice he had taken his cup with him.


End file.
